Do Not Mess with the Maple
by ColonelSexypants
Summary: In which Alfred insults Matthew's precious maple syrup and has to suffer the consuequences. -Rated for some cussing and some insanity on Canada's part, AmeCan if you squint, kinda crackish and completely stupid. R&R -For my fratello, with love :D


**Hey everyone! :D It's that crazy bitch Smeesha again! **

**This is something I wrote for my little sister. She loves Hetalia like me, and she really likes AmeCan. So with her her prompt: AmeCan, romantic comedy, with the words "Maple syrup sucks" from America, I came up with this. There's barely any romance in it though... ehe, oopsies. Maybe those of you with dirty minds can just... I don't know, create a sequel in your head of America and Canada getting down and dirty with some maple syrup. Fetishists. I don't fuckin' know 8D **

**I don't own Hetalia... Sadly. Human names are used by the way.**

**...Once you come up to the part where they discuss maple syrup, that actually happened to me. I'm not even kidding. My friend in New York had no idea what the hell maple syrup is, and as a true Canadian I was so shocked I think my jaw slapped my boobs. D:**

**By the way, in case anyone who reads this happens to have read my story called **_**Incubo**_** (GerIta), the amount of feedback I got for that little oneshot was astonishing, and I'm so grateful. Thank you so much; I can't even make sense of how I got twenty reviews in less than two days. You guys all need to Prussia out for a moment, because you're awesome.! :'D**

It was a quiet morning, and Matthew lay in bed smiling at the sound of birds chirping at his windowsill. He'd woken up early today, but didn't get out of bed; he saw no need to do anything other than look out the large bay window on the eastern wall of his room and the sparkling white winter wonderland outside. The snow was untouched, crisp and pristine, like a pile of millions of crushed diamonds piled on the dead, yellowed grass underneath. The pine trees' limbs were drooping with the weight of the snow, and across the street a couple of kids were squealing and giggling as they tried to roll a snowman's head.

Finally, after a few more moments, he decided he should get out of bed and maybe check out some paper work that involved something to do with trading with Russia. With a yawn, his hand scrambled blindly on his night table in search of his glasses. He put them on and stood up, stretching before letting his arms fall down and swing at his sides, then slid on his moccasin slippers and headed out of his bedroom.

He went to the kitchen, deciding he'd make pancakes for breakfast. He was getting the things he'd need out and setting them on the counter when his phone started to ring. Hastily, he set down the bag of flour, cursing when it fell over and spilled all over the counter. "Maple! Oh shut up!" he barked at the ringing phone. Great. He'd woken up so happy, but now there was a possibility he was out of flour for pancakes, and one does not mess with Matthew Williams when he wants pancakes. He rushed over to the phone, glaring at it for a second before picking up. "Hello?" he said, trying to sound like his normal self.

"_Hey dude, it's me!"_

Matt sighed at the sound of his on-and-off (currently on) boyfriend's familiar obnoxious loudness. "What's up, Al?"

"_Nothing really, I'm so bored, winter sucks balls! Can I come to your place?" _

"It's winter here too, you know. Colder than you get down there."

"_I'm sure we could find a way to warm up."_ His voice had the whole _If-you-know-what-I-mean_ tone to it. Matt flushed, and made a sound of annoyance.

"No."

"_Awww, why not? I'm so bored, Mattie, pleeeeease—"_

"Because I'm busy," Matthew lied. "I don't have time."

"_Oh yeah? I'm standing outside your window and you look like you're pretty dang free to me. By the way, you're right. I'm freezing my ass off out here. Canada is brutal."_

Matt whirled to face his window, and saw a grinning, red-nosed and rosy-cheeked Alfred waving at him, his hands in big red mittens and a huge, marshmallow coat he must have scavenged from Canada's basement once upon a time. Matt let out a sigh of defeat. "Fine. But I don't care what you say, I'm making pancakes, and you can sit on your ass bored."

"_Fine." _With that, he hung up, grinning widely at Matthew through the window. Canada rolled his purple-blue eyes and pointed to the front door, mouthing 'one second'. As soon as the dirty blond disappeared from sight, Matt slammed the phone down, sighing. He'd been planning to just relax today, but knowing Alfred they were going to end up watching a horror movie or playing a horror video game from Japan, or making out on the couch or something. Oh well, Matt thought. He didn't mind _that_ much. At least Al was good company despite his general annoyingness.

He realized he'd been standing there in the kitchen for about a minute, and quickly shook himself out of it. Someone was singing the Canadian anthem obnoxiously outside, and his eyebrow twitched in a great amount of irritation. He yanked the door open, throwing Alfred, who was in the middle of the French part (which sounded ridiculous because Alfred could _not_ speak French, much less sing it), a venomous glare that most people probably thought the Northern country wouldn't be capable of.

"Don't defile my anthem like that, you piece of crap."

"Good morning to you, too, babe." Al walked in without waiting for an invitation, and Matt sighed again before closing the front door and following the other man inside. "Holy balls, it was freezing out there! What the heck took you so dang long?"

"I was busy remembering where all my knives are in case I had the sudden urge to stab you in the face."

Alfred laughed and hung up his coat on the rack beside the door, slipping off his soggy sneakers and flinging them beside Matt's boots. Little drops of water went flying onto the wall and Matt stared at them with a twitching eyebrow. Alfred laughed. "Damn, Mattie. Havin' male PMS?"

"No. Sorry." Matt sighed, shaking his head warily. "I just... I dropped flour everywhere, and now I have a mess to clean up and I don't know if I'll have enough to make pancakes."

"HA! So that's what crawled up your ass and died? That's sad."

"What do you do when you run out of burgers?" Matt retorted. "You get withdrawals and become a whiny annoying freak. A worse one," he added.

"Good point."

By now they had arrived in the kitchen, and Alfred let out a low whistle at the amount of fluffy white powder that was on the counter and floor. Matt groaned. It was worse than he thought; most of it had landed on the floor. "Well, I should clean this up," he said, pointing at the dinner table. "Just sit there and—"

"Want some help?"

Matt stared. "You want to help me?"

"Why not? I can clean up the floor and you can do the counter, then you can make your pancakes and then we can go watch this!" He held up a plastic DVD case, which had 'The Grudge' written on it in red letters. "Iggy said it was great!"

"Al... we're not watching that. I still have a stain on my couch from when we watched _Insidious _last week." As Matt was speaking, he handed Alfred a towel, which he used to start sweeping the split flour into a little pile on the counter as Matt got on his knees and did the floor.

"Psh, that's 'cause... I had to pee, and Gilbert was in the bathroom, and—"

"Gilbert was not here," Matt interrupted flatly at the mention of his ex-boyfriend and current best friend (for whatever reason). "You pissed yourself in fear."

"Did not! I'm a hero, and—"

"_Alfred_. You. Pissed. Yourself."

Alfred made a face and stuck out his tongue. "Whatever man. Where's your garbage?"

"Don't throw out the stuff on the counter, it's still good." Matt stood up and shook his cloth over the garbage in the corner of his kitchen, letting the flour from the ground float into the bag. He went over to where Alfred was now standing with the cloth awkwardly hanging in his hand and lightly pushed him to the side with his hip, smiling when Alfred stumbled a bit. "I keep my counters clean, unlike someone, so I can still use this flour."

"My counters are clean, well, ish." Alfred wrapped his arms around Matt's waist, letting his head rest on the Canadian's wavy blond hair, not noticing the light flush that rose up Matt's neck and cheeks. "So what did you say you were making?"

"Pancakes." Upon feeling the hopeful straighten of America's back, he asked, "Do you want to try some?"

"Sure. I never did before, but you seem to like them. Can I help you make them?"

Matthew paused. "Of course you can," he said. "But you know, you're acting strange today. Less... annoying. Is today special?"

"Oh yeah. Today is the day I finally get to try my boyfriend's pancakes, so it's definitely special."

Matt smiled a bit, but rolled his eyes. "I mean, r_eally. _Why aren't you being annoying?"

"I dunno. I'm just feeling helpful today." He moved away from Matt and shrugged. "Well, chef Williams, what do I do?"

"Um, okay, let me think..." He went on into explaining how to use the liquid method to measure the butter, then instructed Al to crack the eggs, pour in the right amount of flour, etc. The taller man looked happy baking with Matt, and so the Canadian allowed him to do a lot of the work as he watched, pointing out mistakes and responding to Alfred's high fives when he got things right. It was a simple, mundane thing, really, but Matt couldn't remember the last time he'd had such a good time making pancakes.

Once the batter was poured into the skillet and the pancakes were ready to eat, they sat at the table with a plate stacked with a dozen or so pancakes and started to eat. When Matthew reached for the maple syrup he always had on his table, Alfred pointed at it with his fork and asked, "Wssh thrrt?"

"Um... swallow your food, I didn't hear what you said."

Alfred swallowed. "What's that?"

"This? It's maple syrup, it's the yummiest thing you'll ever taste. Seriously, try it. It's orgasmic. I'm not even kidding."

"More orgasmic than me naked?"

Matt nearly spat out his food, but instead for some stupid reason inhaled sharply and started violently choking.

"Down, boy." Alfred laughed, hitting Matt's back until the Canadian finally drew in a ragged breath. "I know, I know. I'm hot, right? Anyways, what's it made of?"

"...Made of?" Matt's voice was hoarse with embarrassment now.

"Yeah, like, how do they make it? In factories?"

"Well, I guess there's factories somewhere, but mostly people just make it on their own. It's just tree sap, really."

"_Tree sap?"_

"Yeah, but it tastes good." Matt put some on his fork and held it out.

Al made a face. "Dude, I don't wanna eat tree sap. That's gross."

Matthew's mouth fell open. "Say what now?"

"You can keep your tree sap, man, I ain't eating that. That's gross," Alfred repeated.

"Gross..."

"Yeah, dude, it's like... I'm a vampire, but a tree vampire. So weird."

"Gross..."

"So do you have ketchup?"

And then, Canada snapped. "_Ketchup?_ On _pancakes_?" Matt stood up, his eyes wild. "Are you fucking_ kidding_ me? First you insult maple syrup—which, by the way, is the awesomest thing in the world, it's even high on the 'awesome scale of awesome things by the awesome Prussia' scale that Gilbert came up with—and is one of my country's most _famous_ foods, then you go and ask for _ketchup?_ Oh no. Oh _hell_ no. You will _not_ defile my maple syrup and pancakes by asking for ketchup. Why the hell would you want ketchup on pancakes anyway? That doesn't make logical sense. You don't put ketchup on pancakes, you just don't do it. You know what? I don't think we can be friends anymore, Al. You've just gone too far this time. You can say shit about hockey, about me being a free country, about my social awkwardness, but you do _not_. Insult. Maple syrup in front of me. Or anywhere. Because I will find you. I will hunt you down. And then I will kill you. And you know what? Right before I finish you, I will make you _drink_ maple syrup. Then you'll realize 'Oh my god, Mattie was right, this is awesome!' and before you get the chance to be happy and beg for my mercy, I will kill you!" Matthew stopped, breathing heavily, his shoulders heaving and his hair sticking up all over the place. His eyes shone in a most terrifying way and he held his fork at Al's face like it was a sword. "Don't mess with this maple motherfucker."

Alfred's eyes were literally about to pop out of his face and his jaw would probably be on the floor if it wasn't attached by all the skin and muscles. He didn't know what to say, so he squeaked out, "Sorry?"

"Oh bitch, sorry doesn't matter now. You know what?"

Al swallowed. Matt was pretty scary, and he bet that he could even give Russia a run for his money. The blond in front of him looked like he'd just been betrayed; his violet eyes were dilated and narrowed, his jaw clenched hard and—Jesus, was that a _growl_ ? "U-um, what?" Alfred whispered, not sure whether it was safe to speak any louder. Heck, he was afraid to breathe.

"Eat some. Right now. Eat some maple syrup and maybe I'll be forgiving and merciful."

At this point, Alfred would have eaten cow shit if it meant making the Canadian take that fork away from his throat. He nodded quickly and took the glass bottle of the light brown, sticky liquid, feeling nervous with psychotic violet eyes watching him. Resisting the urge to make a face, he brought the bottle to his lips. First, he breathed in the smell. It surprised him. This didn't smell like a tree. It smelt like... sugary goodness. He felt like he was being watched by a hawk that would slice his throat should he do something wrong as he titled the bottle. Sweat beaded on his lip. His heart pounded. Oh, this was it. He was going to commit some serious tree felony by drinking tree blood.

The clock on the wall ticked.

Matt's stare of doom never wavered.

A bird cawed somewhere in the distance.

A tumbleweed rolled by.

Thunder crashed and lightning struck, even though they were inside and it was sunny outside anyways.

And Alfred tipped the bottle back.

Well, if this was what drinking tree blood was like, Al decided he would commit this treacherous crime every day of his life if it meant being allowed to taste this sweet, delicious sugary liquid. After taking a solid gulp, which had him coughing because it was so sweet and _yummy_, he slammed the bottle down with a resounding 'thunk'.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then, "Well?"

Alfred looked up at Matthew, who was still brandishing the fork like a pro. The look on his face was insane; his eyes were wide as they stared down, his eyebrows nearly disappearing under wavy hair, his bottom jaw jutting out further than the upper and clenching down hard. It was slightly insane.

"It's really good," Alfred said.

And thus Matthew transformed from demon back into man. "See? I told you."

"Yeah... you sure did." Alfred decided then that he never needed to watch another horror movie because he had one in his life already. Namely, his boyfriend. Matthew was clearly as insane as Russia... just that Russia had an excuse, and Canada just really, really liked his maple syrup.

_A lot._

**Yeeepppp... the romance was there if you squint. xD It came out more like crack(ish) than anything else if you ask me. Ah well, this is how I doooooo~ *pelvic thrust dance* Sorry fratello, you can punch me if you like. :D**

**PS: If you haven't tried maple syrup yet... you're missing out. Go do it I say. It is like an orgasm of the mouth, friends. *dies* **

**Reviews are appreciated but this is a bullshit fic so I don't even care. 8D Do what you will, lovelies! *secretly wants reviews but doesn't want to be a review whore* *shot* D'x**


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